


Stories From a Dusty Looking Glass

by peachmeowzipan



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Gender-neutral Reader, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader is not Frisk or Chara, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26753092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachmeowzipan/pseuds/peachmeowzipan
Summary: Writing prompts for October!!═══════════Chapter 3: Grillby/Reader - Reader hears an interesting rumor from a raving man in their tavern and decides to investigate the woods.
Relationships: Alphys (Undertale)/Reader, Grillby (Undertale)/Reader, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Undyne (Undertale)/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 34





	1. Princess Undyne (Undyne/Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't the same as last year! i thought about taking suggestions again, and i do still want to do that sometime, but this year i'm working off of some october prompt lists, and they won't all be spooky, or halloween-themed! let's see how many i can do! >:3  
> one-word prompts are a little harder for me, and i can't find a list of writing prompts i like, so i'm using two october art prompts! also, if i don't like one of the words, i can always just try to work with the other. (which is what i'll probably have to do for day two xD)  
> here are links to both on twitter!  
> ghiblitober: https://twitter.com/rustanix/status/1310458996776554496  
> monstober: https://twitter.com/BeastSoulArt/status/1300940608295653377
> 
> this is from the prompts teeth+princess! and it's some kind of medieval AU where monsters were never imprisoned underground, and King Asgore adopted Undyne when she was very young!

She told you to meet her in the outer halls of the palace, marble columns lining one side of the corridor and looking out over the gardens. Fireflies danced and blinked among the roses as you rounded the corner, your eyes only flickering to them for a moment before you looked ahead and saw her waiting. She was facing away from you, leaning against a pillar, her head turned to the side with wild, ruby red hair flowing in the breeze as she too watched the garden, and she was gorgeous as ever, but....

Princess Undyne was wearing a tunic and breeches, a sword hanging from a belt at her waste. And on the ground next to her was a rucksack stuffed to the brim and lumpy with angular items.

“P– My lady...” you said, flustered, your heart beating out of your chest with panic as you quickened your pace and drew closer. An admonishment was on your tongue before you remembered your place– and then remembered, again, that monsters did things differently than humans. Speaking your mind here was not dangerous, if you wanted to scold her you could. But Princess Undyne had always treated you as a close friend, as a confidant, and....

She turned on her heel to face you and posed, throwing her hands out to the side, a wicked, sharp grin splitting her blue features. Golden eyes glinted down at you through the darkened hallway, lit only by the candelabra nearby, hanging from the white stone wall.

“What do you think?” she asked, flipping her fringe up and away from one of her wide, gently glowing eyes, only to have it fall back down again, partially obscuring her gaze. You swallowed, glancing down at the rucksack. “I think I look great!! I got a servant to snag these for me...”

“I hope you didn't ask them to steal for you,” you said, frowning up at her, and her eyes crinkled, expression shifting into one that was amused and pleased.

“Ha! No,” she lowered her arms to place her hands on her hips, then glanced away, down towards the white brick beneath your feet, and, “Of course I didn't,” she continued, her sharp teeth glinting in the candlelight as her grin fell slightly, and though she was still smiling, she almost looked wistful. It set your pulse thumping, and you moved a little closer, ducking slightly to try and catch her gaze.

“I see you've packed a bag,” you said gently, and she glanced back towards you, grin falling further, only one side quirking up in a halfhearted attempt to appear cheerful. You straightened up slightly, smiling sadly. “It doesn't look like you took much clothing.”

She snorted at this, some of her good spirits returning, and then she bent down to pick the bag up. It jangled heavily as she shouldered it, then gestured for you to follow as she turned and stepped out from between the pillars, into the garden. You did, hand falling to rest on the hilt of your sword on instinct, eyes flickering about at the shadowed trees and thick bushes of flowers.

Princess Undyne stopped after you'd rounded a corner and walked a little ways deeper. There were only roses to either side of you, the bushes growing so high on the trellis that you couldn't see over them, so thick that the flickering firelight from the hall was not visible.

“I know you might expect me to say it, but I'm... leaving tonight,” she said without turning around, her tone quiet and resolute as she adjusted the bag on her shoulder and stared off at the flowers around her, instead of your face. You swallowed, your free hand twitching slightly at your side, your voice sticking in your throat for more reasons than one. “I'm gonna miss this place... and all the people here, and...” she hesitated, then her head tilted down slightly, red hair fluttering on the breeze and mingling with the roses. A firefly lit up slowly next to her, then went out in front of her hair. It lit up again as it flew around her head, blinked away into the cool night air. “The king...” she went on, tone bittersweet, like an admission of guilt.

“Why?” you asked in a breath, heart feeling like it might crack. She'd talked as if she were going to leave for weeks, fantasized about it often with you. The king had let her learn to fight, had let her train in his halls, but he would not let her wander as she wanted, would not let her join the guard or even leave the castle on her own.

He had lost his son many years ago, and the war he had started in response had driven the queen away. But the war was long over, had ended long before Undyne had even been born, and still he was haunted by it, the loss of his family following him around like a heavy burden he refused to set down. He had nursed it instead, had grown wistful and quiet, a gentle giant with an open wound that he would never allow to heal.

Everyone knew the story of Princess Undyne; she had been a street urchin when he'd met her, stealing bread from Gerson's stall, a spitfire who'd challenge anyone and everyone to a fight, despite being the tiniest thing. Scrawny, but lanky, proportions beginning to look unnatural, because she was starving. Homeless. But not HoPeless.

Gerson had been trying to help her, but the king had walked up on her when she was on the attack. She'd taken one look at his fuzzy mug, summoned a spear, and declared that he'd never take her alive. She'd fight his whole battalion, she'd take on the whole Royal Guard if she had to. She declared herself invincible, immortal, proclaimed that _nobody_ could kill her, that _nothing_ would take her down.

King Asgore had only laughed, to her dismay. And then he had offered her a new home, in the palace. She hadn't trusted him at first, of course, but...

Well, the rest was standing in front of you right now. A trained soldier, fully grown, strong, and healthy. A princess, adopted into the court when she was very young, but with a spirit that detested remaining in the castle, that couldn't stand being treated like she were breakable in any sense of the word. She loved the king, just as everyone did, and not for saving her, because she had never needed saving, but for helping to shape her into the monster she was today. For giving her a better chance. This was why....

“I don't understand,” you went on now, but it wasn't because you didn't know why she wanted to leave. Of course you did, she had told you over and over, had explained it to you unprompted on many occasions. You just didn't understand how she actually _could_ , had never expected her to really see it through. Even now, you were hoping she would just return the things she'd taken from the castle– to sell, likely, on the road– and then return to her room. You could figure her dilemma out another day, speak to the king again and again, as many times as it would take.

She turned to face you then, her expression hard to see in the dark, save for her glowing, saucer eyes. But you could see that she was smiling.

“Because I can feel that this is right,” she said, voice filled with wonder and longing. Undyne lifted a hand and pounded it to her chest, her soul. Her grin widened suddenly, with a spirit that would not rest– that couldn't. It longed for something more. “I can feel it! Every part of me is screaming!! And it's so loud, can't you hear it??” she stepped towards you suddenly, grasping the sleeve of your tunic with one clawed hand, her expression pleading, hopeful, excited. Excited beyond what words could describe– she was practically vibrating with it, and all you could hear were the crickets in the distance, but her emotions were contagious, and you could almost feel them lifting you, as well.

“I _need_ to do this... I've been here too long, I'm so fucking _restless!!_ ” she shook you gently, reached out to grab your other arm and moved into your space to tower over you. You felt your face heat and hoped she couldn't see it as she continued, “Fluffybuns is great and all, I love him, but... I _need_ to _do_ this.”

“You'll...” you hesitated, about to tell her she was going to break his heart (that she was going to break _your_ heart), that he'd lost so much before her (that you couldn't stand to _lose her_ )– but she already knew that. She knew what he'd lost and why he kept her close. She knew his story just like everyone else did, even if nobody really talked about it. “You...” your voice was small, and you gazed up at her and swallowed again. She was so close....

“This is _my_ life,” she said emphatically, expression creasing slightly as she looked down at you, her grin softening in a way you'd only seen on very rare occasions, in a way that was special, in a way she only ever did for you. “I want you to be a part of it,” she went on quietly, and her tone became soft and secret, like the wind through the trees, when she said your name affectionately. “I don't want to have to miss you, too. Please, come with me.”

You were breathless, speechless, but it didn't matter. At that moment, she leaned down to kiss you, thin, rough lips claiming yours softly. Your eyes closed automatically, and you reached up to gently cradle her face, your thumb ghosting along one scaly cheekbone.

When she'd told you to meet her out here tonight, your heart had almost leapt out of your chest. When you saw her standing there, dressed like a common person, a bag at her heels, your heart had nearly broken. You had often planned out how you would talk her down, how you would convince her to stay, if not for the king, than perhaps for _you_ – because you had never planned on her wanting you to go along too.

And here, in the middle of the roses, the soft night air caressing both of you as you held each other in the moonlight, all of your plans fizzled to nothing. You never expected her to ask you to leave. Never expected her to return your feelings, or to feel as strongly about losing you as you did about her.

Why on earth would you ever say no?


	2. The Foggy Swamp (Alphys/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Um, a-are you l-lost?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, last week: i want to do prompts this year, but i'll make them short so it's easier for me to do them every day  
> also me: *writes ~6k words anyway*
> 
> it just kind of happened!! xD
> 
> from the prompts witch+insectoid!

The muddy earth beneath your feet was saturated with water, pulling at the soles of your shoes every time you took a step, but you knew the path was somewhere nearby, knew that it had to be somewhere near the water– there's no way you got _this_ turned around.

You'd been wandering the swamp for hours looking for the group of adventurers you'd come in with, for horse tracks at least, but you'd been pacing the same banks over and over with no sign of them at all. You had even yelled out for them, multiple times, but it was as if you had somehow wandered miles in the span of moments. One second, you had been standing next to the burly knight, who had been in the process of making fun of your group's ranger, and the next, you had been alone. You had been traversing the thick fog at the time, using ropes to keep from getting separated, but you had only dropped yours for a moment, your foot stuck on a root, and when you'd freed it and dropped to your knees, scrambling around in the muck and moss to find it, it had been gone, and so had every trace of your travel companions.

“Artyooom!” you called out for the hundredth time, for the ranger on horseback, who hadn't wanted to get his boots wet. “Nicholaaaas,” you yelled, for the mage in your group, an older man with a wicked smile and a bag of tricks on his back.

You nearly slipped, not watching where you were walking, and had to grab on to one of the many mossy trees nearby to keep from falling into the mucky swamp water. You didn't know how deep the drop off was, but the knight hadn't seemed to care, trudging through it with a hearty laugh, and only relenting when Nicholas warned her of alligators that might be hiding in the mossy water and Artyom begged her not to delay the trip by fighting one. The surface was coated in moss in some areas, and so too would be the gators.

“Amariiii!” you called out for her as well, but your voice was thin with fear, and wouldn't carry.

A chill blew through the swamp, and you shivered. You were just a sellsword, and not a very expensive one at that. You had taught yourself how to use the blade, had won a dozen or so fights in your village, then had traveled to the capital and started hanging around in taverns or on the border, accosting travelers with promises of your skills, and for a lower price than they might find elsewhere.

You just hadn't expected your first job to be a hunt through a swamp for some evil witch. She had a penchant for cursing people, apparently, both humans and monsters, and wore the face of a insect-like demon. Stories say she had killed it herself, and had strung the carcass up in the trees surrounding her home, along with any adventurer fool enough to wander too close, much less challenge her might. Part of you had been wondering if you might find an opportunity to sneak off, but the rest of your group was serious and vigilant. They did trust you with the nightly watch a few times, but you didn't have the heart to abandon them with no one when their guards were lowered, and during the day, you could never find an excuse to wander off alone to maybe disappear when they weren't looking.

They even followed you to use the bathroom, for pity's sake. Artyom in particular was very adamant about this, saying that he'd once had a friend who insisted on going off to use the bathroom on his own, and he'd ended up in the belly of a bear, caught with his pants down, quite literally, and unprepared. He went on to say that there was nothing undignified about taking a shit alongside a comrade in arms, and that you shouldn't be embarrassed. Everybody poops.

He'd told you this while you were squatting in a bush with your face in your hands, and you'd wished sorely that you had chosen a different group of adventurers instead. Perhaps the ones who had been hunting a wraith in the northern woods, or even the inexperienced fools who thought they had seen a litch down south, in the places where the monsters' eyes shone red with blood, in the areas humans were too afraid to go.

You stumbled again and let out a heavy sigh, leaning against a nearby tree and closing your eyes. It was uncomfortably warm in your armor, and you'd been walking all day, even before you'd been separated from your group. Though you had wished to find a way to leave the group, you hadn't wanted it to happen by way of you getting hopelessly lost in a foggy swamp, filled with alligators and an evil witch who would sooner kill you than give you directions.

“Um, a-are you l-lost?” a timid voice spoke up from behind you.

You'd be ashamed later to admit that this had scared you, but would never tell anyone how you suddenly let out a blood-curdling shriek, leaping nearly a foot into the air before tripping and stumbling over your own feet as you tried (and failed) to simultaneously draw your sword and whirl around on the stranger. You very nearly fell into the swamp water, and you would have, if a scaly, yellow hand hadn't darted out to catch you, claws curling around your arm and tugging you back upright. You struggled for a moment to get your bearings, and then leaned forward to place your hands on your knees and groan as they let you go, your heart still pounding a mile a minute in your chest.

“I-i'm! Sorry!” the voice said beside you, and you clenched your eyes closed for a moment, then looked up hopefully, half-straightening to see your savior.

You screamed again at the sight of the monster standing before you, clawed hands clasped in front of them, a swamp-colored robe covering their form, though a thick yellow tail swished behind them. They had a hood drawn up over their head, and looking out at you was the face of an insect, iridescent carapace gleaming around large, red eyes.

“N-no! Wait!!” they called as you ran away, sprinting through the dense trees and fog, nearly slipping and tripping over the mud, until your foot sank straight down into the ground.

You staggered and tried to catch yourself on your other foot, but that sank down too, and when you tried to yank your feet out, they only sank farther, to your dismay and quickly mounting panic. You looked around yourself, and cool dread pooled in your gut.

This was quicksand, wasn't it? You had never seen it before, but you had heard stories of people losing friends or travel companions to it, and this was how you were going to die. You wished suddenly that a bear had simply eaten you instead, because at least it would have afforded you a quicker death than drowning in earth.

“O-oh shoot,” quick, scampering footsteps could be heard behind you, accompanying the voice from before, and you started to struggle harder, though it only seemed to make you sink faster. “S-stop! You're going to– to d-drown!!” they cried out, rushing around the quicksand pit to stand where you could see them.

“Stay back!!” you yelled, finally succeeding in unsheathing your sword. “I'm warning you!! You're the witch of this swamp, aren't you? It was your deadly fog that spirited me away from my companions!”

“Oh– h-huh? Um, n-no...” they looked down the point of your blade, hands raised in surrender despite the fact that you weren't close enough to touch them with it, much less attack them. They moved one hand to their chin, and you tensed, but they only pushed up their face, to your confusion.

Beneath it was the rather charming visage of a small, lizard-like monster, their expression drawn with concern and anxiety, a few streaks of shining sweat decorating their yellow brow, eyes squinting at you from under the shadow of their hood. You lowered your blade slowly, mildly shocked.

“H-hang on...” they said, pulling the mask off entirely while you sunk ever lower, and rummaging around in a pocket of their robe to pull out a pair of dirty glasses. They sighed, as if annoyed, and began rubbing them clean with their sleeve, and then placed them on the bridge of their snout. “Th-that's better,” they said, smiling nervously at you for a moment.

There was a beat of silence. You held up one hand, mouth opened as if to speak, but–

“O-oh! Right!” they exclaimed, using the bug mask to gesture towards your calves, which were now almost fully submerged, “Hang on!!” And they sprinted away into the fog, leaving you to continue to sink, silent and nonplussed in their wake. You slumped, but straightened when they returned almost immediately, jogging in place beside the quicksand, and, “S-stay there! Don't move!!” they said quickly, before sprinting off again.

“I can't exactly run away, now, can I?” you called after them, but got no response. You slumped down again, huffing, and sheathed your sword, then began looking around wildly for some way to free yourself, but there were no hanging vines nearby, or even trees close enough to cling to.

“AMARIIII!!” you called again into the fog, panicked and turning this way and that as if your friends might reappear suddenly to come to your rescue. Your cries disturbed a flock of birds in a nearby tree, who took off in a flurry of squawks and feathers, and, “NICHOLAS!!” you yelled as loudly as you could, voice cracking slightly from your volume, “ARTYOOOOM!!!”

The only cries that responded were that of the birds and frogs, and you began to breath a little harder as you sunk lower, you knees now submerged. Your heart racing, you looked around once more, for a stick, anything, tugged at your legs again with no success.

“ANYBODYY!!” you shouted, and the sounds of fast little feet pattering back towards you could be heard. You twisted around towards them and saw the little yellow monster had reappeared, holding a coiled length of thick rope, tilted back slightly to balance the weight of it, and holding their glasses on with their free hand. “Y-you–”

“Grab this!” they exclaimed, coming to a sudden halt at the edge of the quicksand and dropping the rope at their feet. They grabbed an end and tossed it towards you–

It fell short, almost a foot away, but you lunged for it anyway, only to have it yanked back as you sank a few sudden inches into the muck.

“I– I could have reached–” you sputtered, as they reeled it back in, bending down and looking more nervous than ever. Their hood had fallen down to expose the spines along the back of their head, yellow, scaly points that stuck out in the back like spiky hair.

“S-sorry! I– I think I've got it this time!” they called, voice wavering, and then threw it again.

It landed even farther from you, and you began gesticulating wildly, in a panic, as they reeled it in once more.

“S-sorry!!” they exclaimed, “Th-this time for sure!!” They got ready to throw it and you quickly interjected.

“T-tie a–! Tie a rock to the end!” You exclaimed, voice high with panic, and they paused, glancing around for one, “A stick, anything!” you went on, the quicksand now reaching almost to your hips, and they scrambled around, then seemed to see something at the base of a nearby tree. They rushed over and hefted up a long, thin branch that had fallen, and quickly tied the rope around it. “Yeah! Yeah!!”

They rushed back over and launched it like a javelin, and it soared past you this time, but you grabbed onto the rope, and they let out a quiet, excited noise.

“O-okay! Now wait there!” they exclaimed, holding onto the other end and rushing over to one of the nearby trees.

“Again! Not going anywhere!” you called back, the quicksand cresting your hips. They hopped up onto the side of the tree, slid down a few inches, and then began steadily climbing until they reached a sturdy branch some ways up the trunk. By the time they had climbed onto it, you had sunk down to your stomach, and they looked down at you, suddenly very nervous.

“U-um, okay! I'm gonna jump!” they called out. You were holding your arms up with the rope, craning your neck back to look up at them as you sank. They hesitated.

“Any minute now!” you called up encouragingly, and they shifted from foot to foot nervously, staring down at the ground far below them.

“I-i-it's just– it's r-really high!!” they yelled back.

“You can do it!!” you shouted, sending nervous glances down at the quicksand, now risen to about mid-stomach and climbing.

“A-are you sure?” they asked, and you nodded frantically.

“B-believe in yourself!!” you replied loudly, “You need to believe in yourself more!!”

They paused again, and then looked down before taking one large, deep breath. The yellow monster's expression became determined before they crouched down slightly, and then gave one mighty leap into the air, yanking the rope with them.

“HHHAAAAA!!” they exclaimed as they fell, and you quickly wrapped the rope around both of your hands, held on tight, and their weight was thankfully enough to yank you up and out of the puddle.

“Oof!!” they exclaimed when they landed, bouncing once, but thankfully unharmed– monsters were sturdy like that. Humans, not so much.

You kicked your legs from where you were dangling and swaying, almost fully coated in quicksand and suspended a good ten or so feet off the ground, give or take.

“Woooo!!” you gave an excited whoop anyway, and the small monster laughed along with you, your voices echoing through the foggy swamp.

☆

“Thanks for that,” you said as the two of you walked along, your leggings and boots stiff with muck. You were scraping it idly off of your armor as it dried, with them walking ahead of you slightly, tail swaying as they lead you off into the fog. You were both holding onto the rope, to keep you from getting turned around again, and they chuckled.

“Of– of course!” they exclaimed, tossing a wobbly, nervous grin back over their shoulder before turning to face forward again, “Th-this place is, um, easy to get lost in, if you don't kn-know it very well... I get lost travelers visiting me all the t-time.”

A little wooden fence was visible through the fog now, and they sped up slightly, you following along behind them.

“B-but I've lived here a long time!” they continued as they reached the fence and followed it, leading you to the creaky gate, “S-so I know it like the b-back of my hand!” they hesitated, looking a little sheepish before they strode forward through the gate, “Of– of course, when the fog rolls in, that always m-makes it difficult... It's, um... got a mind of its own sometimes, eheh....”

You followed them through the gate and up a cobbled path through the damp soil. A cottage came into view, and it made you pause– it was wooden, but the structure looked as if it had sprouted up out of the ground like a tree, branches that reached up into the sky like long, spindly fingers making up the roof and covered in dense leaves. Gaps in the wood grew naturally along the sides, as if in place of windows, and there was no door, but a large part between the roots where a ripped cloth was hung, moth-eaten as if it had been hanging there for years without being replaced or tended to.

Scattered around the yard were various contraptions, both made of wood and scraps of metal. It brought to mind the inventions you had heard about from citizens in the capital, things that the crackpot monster inventor cooked up to amuse the king in his spare time. You wondered idly if this monster was an inventor as well, as you began following them slowly again.

“This is...” you trailed off. Your focus was on the things in the yard and the strange tree cottage they lived in, and ended up walking straight into something hanging down from one of the branches that was snaking out over the yard. You yelped, taking a step back and dropping your end of the rope– and then yelled again, leaping backward this time.

An enormous hairy spider was hanging in front of you, motionless as it swayed in a slight breeze.

“O-oh! it's fine!” they said as you backpedaled, holding up their free hand in a placating gesture, “It's just a, uh– a d-decoration...” they said, trailing off nervously, and you glanced around, and then up.

Dozens of bug carcasses like this were hanging from the branches, more than you could count, and of all shapes and sizes. You stared for a moment, and then looked back to them, nonplussed. They shrugged, glancing away anxiously.

“I, um, I l-like b-bugs!” they said, sending an awkward smile your way before turning away and parting the ripped sheet. A soft light was glowing from inside, and they beckoned you with the hand holding their coiled rope. “Y-y-you can come inside if you want to,” they said, “I c-can make some, um... t-tea, and m-maybe... help you find your way out? If you w-want....”

You hesitated a moment longer, and then smiled, following them into the cottage. They grinned back.

“I would like that,” you said, letting relief seep into your tone, “Only– um...”

You had to duck slightly when you went in, because this monster was only a little over half your height, and everything inside was tailored for them, including the height of the ceiling and doorframe. There were lanterns hung from internal branches growing out of the walls, a cozy fireplace burning to one side despite the warm season, though you hadn't seen any smoke coming out of the roof, and it seemed dangerous besides, seeing as the whole building was a literal tree. A long couch was positioned next to it, very cushioned and covered with blankets like a nest. A few more unfinished contraptions were littered around, with one table set aside and covered with what looked like plans and tools, no doubt a workstation.

To the other side of the cottage was a small kitchen with a dining table, and there was already bread laid out on a plate as the monster padded into the room and began rummaging around in cabinets. They lit a fire under a stone oven and placed a kettle on the counter.

“I n-need to run to the w-well,” they said absently, setting the rope down in a messy pile next to one of the chairs by the table, then grabbing a bucket from under the counter. They turned to you with another smile, “I'll j-just be a m-minute! Make yourself at h-home!”

And you moved to the side as they trundled along past you, leaving you alone in their home. You looked around again, for anything that looked like it belonged in a witch's hut– but there were no jars of ingredients visible, no human skeletons or stray limbs or animal carcasses, not even a cauldron over a burning fire. Although, maybe they kept their cauldron outside, and their ingredients in the cupboards. You were tempted to snoop, but decided to wait for them instead, seating yourself on one of the short chairs at the table. It was hot in here from the fire, and you exhaled, thinking about removing your armor idly as you inspected the room again.

There were more insect decorations in here, and you spotted their mask now, thrown haphazardly onto their nest of blankets. In the soft, yellow light inside their cottage, it looked far less menacing. A few iridescent beetles hung from the walls, some spiders set up to look like they were standing watch on top of the cupboards.

One of them moved suddenly, and you jumped, but it only skittered away into one of the natural crevices in the wall. It did make you want to examine the others more closely, but you stayed put instead, keeping a close eye on all of the decorations as you waited.

A small silver spoon caught your eye next, sitting next to a plate of butter on the table. It looked dirty, and had a skull decal on the end of the handle, two gleaming sapphire eyes looking out from tiny sockets. It was the only piece of silverware you could see, and the only thing that looked like it might be expensive in the entire room.

The longer you looked at it, the more it seemed like you were being watched, a creeping sense of scrutiny falling over you in the empty hut. Feeling uncomfortable, you reached out and flipped it over, but the feeling didn't go away. You almost thought about getting up to leave, but–

“I'm back!” came the nervous voice of your little yellow host. You turned to watch as they pushed their glasses up their snout, heaving an overflowing water bucket into the house.

“Oh, let me help–” you half-stood, but they waved you off, lugging it into the kitchen again. You lowered yourself back down to sit as they plopped it down on the ground, then took the kettle off of the counter to set beside it. They took off the lid, then tipped the bucket to spill some of the water inside before righting it again and replacing the kettle's lid.

“I get, um, s-supplies once a m-month or so,” they were saying as they moved the bucket out of the way and lifted the kettle onto the grate above the fire burning in the oven, “S-so I don't have many f-flavors to choose from, j-just the one.” Then they meandered over to the table and seated their self across from you, immediately ripping into the bread sitting out and reaching for the tiny spoon beside the butter. They hesitated, gaze flickering to you, and then lifted it, spooning some butter onto the bread without mentioning it. You felt a shadow of guilt, even though you hadn't intended on stealing it, and you shifted in your seat, uncomfortable again.

“I just–” you said, reaching up to scratch at your scalp nervously, “It's silly, but I felt like it was watching me, that's all. I wouldn't steal from you.” They watched you for a moment, and then smiled brightly, handing over the buttered bread. You took it gingerly and watched as they ripped off another piece, spooning more butter onto theirs as they spoke.

“O-oh! That's okay,” they said, “It p-probably is.” That did little to reassure you, but they continued, “S-sometimes people w-worry about me out here, on my own, but, um, they never really need to... Almost everybody I've met has been really, um, n-nice!”

You felt very nervous suddenly, glancing back to the bug mask sitting on their plush sofa, thinking of the decorations hanging outside and how they had appeared to you at first. Then you wondered how on earth a sweet creature like this had been skewed so drastically before taking a bite of your bread.

“Oh, this butter is delicious,” you commented as you ate– it was a very rich flavor, with just enough salt, and they beamed at you as they ate their own slice. “Can... if it's not too nosy of me, can I ask you some questions?”

“S-sure!” they said between bites, and you looked around the room.

“How is it there's a fire in here?” you asked first, gesturing with one hand to the fireplace, “It doesn't seem safe at all, and I saw no ventilation. And it's the warm season, it hardly needs to be warmer in here.” A bead of sweat trickled down the side of your face as if to punctuate this, and they snorted, seeming to shift delightedly in their seat.

“That's usually everyone's um, f-first question,” they tittered, “It's magic, so it's s-safe! And it won't burn, um... also, I-I like it hot! It, um, reminds me of the desert! That's where I come from.”

“The desert,” you repeated, and they nodded. You had never been there, but you knew it was a very dry place. “Isn't it very humid here, though?” you asked, “What made you leave?” They paused for a moment, then smiled wistfully at the table.

“Oh, I j-just... I don't know,” they said, “The desert was nice and c-comfortable, but I guess I just, um... got r- _restless_ , m-maybe....” they seemed to think for a moment, and then smiled at you, “B-besides, look at how cool this place is! A-and I've made a lot of friends looking for a place to call h-home. I can always v-visit sometime, if I want to...”

“Visit the desert?” you asked through a laugh, and they nodded, grinning around a bite of bread. “That's a long trip to make.”

“Oh, y-yeah, s-sometimes,” they said almost mischievously, glancing at the spoon. They finished their piece of bread and then ripped off another as steam began to rise from the kettle.

“Can I ask how you made this place?” you went on, after a beat of silence, “It's incredible, it looks like you grew it right out of the earth!” She snickered again, looking pleased once more as she buttered her bread.

“Oh, p-plants are easy!! You m-must have never been to, um, the monster s-settlements out w-west!” they exclaimed, setting the spoon aside and taking a bite. It was true, you hadn't, but you let them continue instead of saying so, “You just need to make a suggestion, um, it's a lot e-easier than rock!” You waited a moment, as if for further explanation, but they seemed to think this was enough, and it made you grin fondly.

“I'm not sure what you mean,” you admitted, “You can't ask a rock to do anything, much less a tree.” They glanced up at you, a twinkle in their creased eyes, and adjusted their glasses with an amused little chuckle.

“Y-you can!” they said, “Y-you just have to know how! And that's w-what I did!”

And they took another bite of bread, as if to punctuate their statement. You chuckled as well, accepting that maybe this just wasn't something you could understand, at least not right now. You finished your bread, looking thoughtfully at their mask once again.

“I feel bad for not asking right away,” you said, glancing back at them, “But I think circumstances have affected my manners.” They smiled at you understandingly, and you went on, “What do I call you? And how should I refer to you?” You gave them your name and the pronouns you went by, and they blinked.

“Oh! R-right!” They set their bread down and dusted crumbs from their tiny clawed hands, then held one out for you to shake. You did, smiling companionably down at them. “I'm Alphys!! I'm, um, an inventor, if you couldn't g-guess.”

“I thought as much,” you said with a small laugh as they took their hand back, picking up their bread again.

“And, um, I'm a she, I guess!” she said, through another bite of bread, “I d-don't really care, but, it's what I went by in the desert t-too.”

“It's nice to meet you,” you said, and you couldn't keep the fondness out of your tone. She paused to look at you for a moment, and then snickered into her food, blushing lightly, yellow scales colored a dark orangish-gold in the soft light.

“Y-y-you too!” she said nervously, finishing her bread just as the kettle keened a whistle from behind her.

She hopped down and fetched a box from the cupboard first, and a small black pot that read 'sugar' on the side, which she set on the table with the box. She removed the tiny lid from the sugar pot and opened the box in one fluid motion before heading back to the oven and putting the fire out with a wave of her hand. It was the first bit of magic you had seen her do, and it reminded you again of the real reason you had come to the swamp, something you noticed she hadn't bothered to ask.

She brought the kettle to the table along with a scorched cutting board, and set it between you, quickly grabbing two tea bags from the box and plopping them in, then replacing the lid. She hesitated, and then grabbed another bag, plunking that into the boiling water as well.

“I-I usually add two, but this is a s-special occasion,” she said, grinning at you as she bustled once again to the cupboards and materialized two tea cups from inside. They were both chipped, one of them a soft shade of sea green, the other a bright orange, and both with tiny golden bones embossed along the rim and the handle.

“Um,” you said as she placed the orange one in front of you, and you took it gingerly, inspecting the delicate design as a growing guilt made itself known in your gut. She seated herself next to you and picked up the spoon again, placing it into the sugar without bothering to wash it first. “I need to... tell you something.” you said nervously. She glanced at you, expression turning understanding again, for some reason.

“W-what is it?” she asked, in a way that hardly sounded like a question. You swallowed, anxiety bottoming out, and you glanced away.

“The reason I came to this swamp... the reason I was lost, in the fog–” you hesitated, sending another glance towards her bug mask. You could see now that it was simply painted wood, made to look like the beetles she hung from her tree and on her walls with shiny paint. The lenses looked like glass painstakingly colored and fitted into the eye holes, and you found yourself swallowing again around a dry lump. “I... there are people in this forest who would like to hurt you.”

Her expression didn't change from where she was seated across the table, and she merely fiddled with her teacup, as if she were waiting for something more.

“I... was part of that group,” you went on, finding it easy to look into her eyes as you spoke, those brownish orbs looking back at you impassively, “There were four of us. A mage, a knight, and a ranger. I'm– I can't use magic, or anything, I hadn't even been out of my home town until a few months ago, but...”

She continued to watch you, but her smile became encouraging, and you huffed out a sigh, looking down into your empty cup.

“They are... more experienced than me,” you said after a moment, fiddling with the porcelain cup, “A lot more. And they're set on finding you and. Killing you. They're well-equipped, and the mage is... particularly clever. I'm sorry.”

There was a moment of silence, and then she too sighed, drawing your gaze to her, to find that her smile hadn't faded.

“I-it's okay,” she said, her voice quiet, tone soft, “I've had to, um, h-hide before. I don't really l-like fighting...”

“That's not very fair,” you said, then looked down again. “But, these people... they aren't... _bad_. I've been traveling with them for weeks, now, and they don't seem cruel, they just. There are rumors...” you looked up again, movement catching your gaze, and you saw that she was reaching for the kettle, removing the lid to peek inside and give it a sniff. She steeped the tea bags a few times, and then replaced the lid with a thoughtful hum.

“I could talk to them for you,” you blurted out before she could speak, and she looked to you again, subdued expression still in place. “I'm sure they would listen. I mean, I hope they would listen, I–” You hesitated, frowning at one of the natural windows to the yard outside, still obscured by heavy fog. You glanced back to her, frowning, “How on earth could rumors like that spread, about a kind little thing like you?” you asked quietly, and she snorted, burying her face in her hand and looking up at you with gleaming, amused eyes. She was blushing again.

“People ask that a lot, t-too,” she said, grinning up at you, “I never really h-have an answer for them.”

The silence stretched on for a moment, both of you watching each other, and then she broke eye contact, smiling at the kettle instead. She reached out and took it by the handle, leaned over to pour you a cup, holding the lid on with one clawed hand. It smelled rich and floral, sweet with a hint of bitter as it wafted up to you from the bright orange tea cup.

“Aren't you worried?” you asked, sending her a curious expression as she poured her own cup. She filled hers to the brim, and it reminded you of the bucket she had brought in, full until it had spilled out over the floor as she walked into the room. She set the kettle down, closing her eyes to take a moment to breath in the thick aroma, sighing it out as she added about ten spoonfuls of sugar as you spoke, “They're better at traversing the swamp, they even, um– they know about the dangers, unlike me.” You watched her stir the sugar in and take a sip before she set her cup down, smiling up at you patiently as you went on, “You're not... scared?”

“Well...” she looked nervously at her hands this time before beaming up at you, “A little... But, um, it's fine. If what you said is true, then, um... it shouldn't be a problem. L-like I said, almost everybody I've met has been nice....”

You watched her for a moment longer, frowning, and her gaze flickered to the window. You could hear a horse whinny in the distance, the sounds of armored feet slowly becoming more audible, and you half-stood, but Alphys waved you off like she had earlier, hopping off of her seat to patter over to the cupboards again.

“Y-you said there were four of you?” she asked idly over her shoulder, pulling down three more tea cups. A dark blue, a deep green, and a vibrant yellow, hanging from her stubby, clawed fingers.

“Including me, yes,” you said absently, nodding as she quickly bustled back to the table and set them out.

“Th-then, um, I might need to make some more tea!” she said, a soft, endearing grin splitting her features as she looked back at you over the table. You blinked, a sudden protectiveness settling inside you, and you looked down at your cup again as she looked around her kitchen suddenly and sighed.

“W-we won't have enough seats in here,” she worried aloud, and you couldn't hold back a chuckle as you watched her scramble over to the couch, beginning to clear a spot for more guests.

You gazed down at your cup again, warmth settling in your chest as you inhaled the scent like she had. Then, you took a sip, as the footsteps grew closer.


	3. A Man Made of Fire (Grillby/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “...And who might you be?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOF, i'm three days behind xD  
> but here's day three's prompt! shadow creature+fire  
> here's hoping i can catch up soon!
> 
> there's a bit of innuendo later, not sure if it will bother anyone (or even be immediately apparent), but i'm putting this here just in case!

“This blustering fool again,” one of the men had said from across the room, taking a long gulp from his beer as the other simmered before him, almost livid, “What is it this time?”

“Remember the time he'd said he'd seen a spirit?” said another, seated at the same table and well-drunk, chin in her hand as she sent an amused glance towards their irritable friend, “Turned out to be that 'blook fellow who comes by at the end o' the week.”

Another spoke up as he passed, and with a roll of his eyes, he commented that, “He's rantin' about some shadow monster this time--”

The ground was hard under your feet, cold with the creeping chill of autumn as you moved through the dark forest, lantern unlit in your hand as you watched the spaces between the trees, watched the way the shadows moved with intense scrutiny. The branches whispered against each other in the eerie, darkened sky, the forest floor littered with a thin blanket of them, dry and crunching underfoot with each careful, cautious step you took.

“No!” the man had cried, slamming his hands down on the table in your tavern and standing up, his bar mates leaning back in affront, tankards still clutched tight in their hands, “It wasn't a shadow monster, it was a demon that _manipulates_ shadow! Steals it! Eats it!”

You were in a small town, not near enough to the capital to attract a lot of foot traffic, not far enough to be considered overly isolated, and tales like this usually made their way to your tavern, an entertaining way to close off your night. It was usually this same man, and he was usually always wrong, but it was nice to entertain the idea that he wasn't, sometimes, to bring some much-needed excitement into the lives of yourself and the other tavern-goers. People liked to swap ghost stories around the fire, and the occasional urban legend, no matter how far fetched, was thrilling to hear about, to let your imagination run wild for a bit and pretend that it was real.

You hesitated next to a tree, now. Some light was moving in the distance, flickering between the trees, and you moved towards it, with light steps around as much of the forest's debris as you could. You drew up on it slowly, heart beating fast in your chest as you came closer and closer, and was it a trick your eyes were playing on you, or did it seem to flicker faster as you approached, to flare a bit brighter with each dreadful step through the trees? When you finally reached it, you peeked around the thick trunk of the tree you had stopped behind curiously, carefully.

What you saw made you sigh, your hopes deflating in an instant, expression falling with them as you stepped out of the shadows.

“What would a demon be doing out in our woods?” the first man had said indignantly, and the angry man sent a furious glance his way, frowning. You watched it from behind the bar, wiping absently at the counter and not even bothering to pretend you weren't listening.

“What would a demon be doing _anywhere??_ ” he countered, one of his other bar mates chuckling slightly. “I saw it, I tell you, not three miles away from town, some man made of light and fire and burning a-- a _body_ , probably, or an animal--”

“Are you sure you didn't just see a campfire and get spooked?” the woman asked with a playful lilt, and the table erupted in laughter, much to the glaring man's upset.

It _was_ a campsite you had wandered up on now, empty save for the roaring campfire, high and bright in the small clearing someone had erected it in. A bed roll was laid out nearby, with an open rucksack next to it. A small stack of twigs was piled up near the fire, and you paused to listen to it crackling, to watch the flames dance while you wondered idly if the owner would return soon-- and also why they hadn't simply come into town and stayed at the inn above your tavern.

That had been the end of the conversation about demons in the woods, for after that comment, the man had stormed out, leaving a chorus of chuckles behind him as he muttered and grumbled out into the blue light of evening. When he was gone, the conversation had turned to other, more sensible topics, like how the local crop was doing, who had a better price on tools, and who was bedding who (apparently the blacksmith had taken a shine to the baker, much to the surprise of literally nobody). As the lanterns had dimmed and the crowd had cleared out, you hadn't been able to shake the story from your head, and later that night, unable to sleep, you had donned your cloak and set out into the dark.

“Perhaps he really had been raving,” you muttered now as you watched the fire, reaching down to fetch a match from your pocket. You could at least light your lantern for the trip back, if there were no demons out here after all, nor monsters or patrons, for that matter.

You hesitated, however, match half raised to strike against its book, as you caught sight of the shadows on the ground. They were shifting before your eyes, and changing direction, almost as if the light were getting brighter, or perhaps another one was coming from--

Behind you.

“...And who might you be?” came a low, whispery voice from your back, and you let out a yell, flailing and dropping your matchbook and lantern as you whirled around.

You had to squint-- standing there was a man made of fire, flames swirling and flickering in the dark, a pile of thick branches in their arms, but not burning, and neither were the clothes they wore-- a smart vest over a white undershirt, and a pair of breeches and boots. Of all things, they were wearing a small pair of bifocals, their head ablaze and raging with fire, and you took a step back, stumbled, and watched as their flames leapt up slightly, curling high for the briefest of moments on the gentle breeze as you tipped backward.

The sound of wood hitting against wood and earth clattered through the air as they dropped their firewood, stepped forward as if on reflex to catch you.

It was the oddest sensation.

Their arms curled behind you, one catching you around the shoulders, another settling at the small of your back, and holding your cloak out of the campfire. They didn't feel solid, not like the arms of a human, but there was no give either, as if some strong, invisible force were holding you up. But it felt so alive, pulsing with warmth, and not enough to burn, but enough to chase away the chill of autumn, to make you shiver and lean into them reflexively.

This only lasted for the most fleeting of moments before they straightened up and helped you to stand again, flames that were in the shape of flickering hands still resting on your shoulder, your side, as if to make sure you were okay, and as your eyes adjusted, you gazed up at them in wonder. The heat in your face had nothing (or perhaps everything) to do with the warmth of their limbs, and the reddish flames of their face flickered with oranges and yellows for a moment, flaring up again with what might have been surprise before they stepped away from you.

“...Are you alright?” they asked after a beat, voice a barely-there murmur between the crackles of fire, as if it were muffled behind a sheet or coming to you from another room. You couldn't answer immediately, struck suddenly by how it made you feel, as if that voice were burning straight through you and cradling you all at once. They flickered yellow again before bending down to pick up the wood they had dropped, and you quickly leaned down to help them, swallowing and trying to find your voice.

You gave them your name and pronouns, instead of answering their question, head still alight with the sensations from before, with the subtle wish to be nearer to them and perhaps feel that strange, pulsing warmth again, on the curve of your face, or perhaps wrapped comfortingly around you, like a blanket. You had never seen a person like them-- and surely they were a monster, not a demon, for a demon would never chuckle quite like this, would they, would never tilt their head at you in a way that almost read as amused, despite their lack of facial features.

“...I'm Grillby,” they said, as you helped them pick up the last of the branches, eyes hardly leaving them as they straightened up and moved around to the opposite side of the fire. You moved to follow them as they emptied their arms into the pile of twigs, then placed your branches on top of theirs, dusting your hands off on your pants as you stood, “...And you can call refer to me as he.”

“Wow,” you breathed, brain still embarrassingly blank, and he began to flicker yellow and orange again, moving quickly around you. You turned to watch him kneel down and rummage through his rucksack, your thoughts catching up to you as you thought to break the silence, “Um, people were talking about you-- in my tavern!” you said, and he paused for a moment before he pulled out a pot.

“...Good things, I hope,” he said, without a hint of humor or even tension. It was a deadpan delivery, and it made you chuckle anyway, moving around the fire to collect your matchbook and lantern from where they had fallen.

“Um... kind of,” you hedged as you straightened up, and then went on, “It got me curious about who or what might be out here, so I decided to come visit.”

“...Well, it's nice to meet you,” he rumbled, leaning over and lifting three long, sturdy sticks from nearby, “...Would you like to sit and eat with me?” You had to laugh at this, watching as he turned to kneel facing the fire and set up a cooking tripod over the flames.

“You're made of fire, but use a campfire to cook?” you asked, and he flared again, flames curling and popping with a crackling laugh as he turned his fiery head to look up at you, his glasses almost seeming to twinkle between his light and his campfire's.

“...Yes,” was all he said, turning back to the fire, where he hung the pot, “It also makes it easier to find my camp, when I leave.”

“Oh-- that makes sense,” you chortled, and then hesitated. “You know... you could just-- come into town, if you want.” He paused, gazing thoughtfully into his fire for a moment, “I run a tavern with an inn above it, if you needed a place to stay, or even just... wanted to stick around, for a while.”

“...A man coming from the same direction seemed to think I was a demon, earlier this night,” he said with that same dry, deadpan delivery. You flushed, shifting sheepishly, but he only glanced at you and laughed lightly. It was nearly impossible to tell, and maybe it was just your own projection, but his expression almost appeared soft, or fond-- although the latter might have been wishful thinking.

“You won't be chased out if you stay under my roof,” you assured him firmly, grinning down at him, “And if you like, before bed _I_ can cook for you, maybe treat you to one of our specials. I'm pretty good behind the grill.”

He flared with a sudden, roaring laugh at this, flames crackling and popping for a moment while you blushed at the inferred implications behind your statement that you were oddly more than okay with. You let your words stand instead of flustering and trying to clarify your meaning, only laughing along with him as he huffed out a whooshing breath, like a flame in the wind.

“...Well, I'm not too bad myself,” he said. He took a moment, and then unhooked his pot from the tripod, placed it back in his rucksack with a flickering hum. “...Sure,” he said gently, and you had to hold in a dreamy sigh, head over heels for this fire monster before you'd even had a real conversation. Grillby shifted off of his bed roll, then lifted it and rolled it up against his body to tuck under one arm.

The fire was put out with a wave of his hand, and you let out a quiet, delighted noise at the display, which he chuckled at, flames of his face still dancing with shifting hues of orange and yellow. The small clearing barely dimmed, and he bent down to lift his rucksack up onto one shoulder before sidling up to you.

“...Lead the way,” he said, and was it you, or had his tone dipped low enough to almost sound sultry, the popping hiss of his vocalizations sending another shiver down your spine.

“Of course,” you breathed, but still only stood and watched him for a moment before he rumbled out another laugh, sparks crackling from his flaring head's flames as you jumped slightly, turning on your heel and snickering at yourself as you began to move away through the trees.

You paused before you'd made it out of his circle of light, however, the forest a pitch dark shadow all around you, your eyes still adjusted to the light of his fiery body. You hesitated a beat, and then smiled mischievously back at him.

“I can't see very well in the dark,” you admitted, moving closer to his side. He looked down at you, his face flickering hot and fast, and you boldly reached out to take his arm in yours, that pulsing warmth moving much quicker against you than it had before, “And it's chilly out here. I'll have to stay close, but you'll be my light, won't you?” you asked, grinning almost playfully up at him. He watched you for a moment before seeming to shiver himself, letting out a fiery hum before he let you tug him off into the dark forest, in the direction of town.

“...Of course,” he parroted you, as you both set off into the quiet night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's love at first sight! TwT

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!! >w<


End file.
